


the rb gives you wings

by crystalcities



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, the relationship is just max fantasizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 13:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalcities/pseuds/crystalcities
Summary: Just Max and his car.





	the rb gives you wings

**Author's Note:**

> So there's an interview where Daniel was asked "have you ever had sex in an F1 car?" and he laughed about how it would be logistically impossible because there were people around the cars all the time.
> 
> I know they definitely don't keep the cars in the garage post-race, and I know they definitely have better security around the circuit, but idc! The point is to get Max alone with the car, ok? :laughs:
> 
> It doesn't matter, but I set it in 2016, because.

Max’s fingers are trembling with anticipation as he tries the keycard he nicked from a mechanic at the after party. The door to the garage unlocks with a soft click, and Max slips inside quickly.

 _This is a very bad idea. I’ve had too many drinks._ Max thinks, but he’s already come all the way here (drove himself too, thankfully he didn’t get into an accident) so he’s committed.

There it is, his race car, the lights glinting off the mirrors. Max bends down low, runs a hand along his car. He’s been keyed up all day since the end of the race. He feels drunk, light-headed, and excited too because he’s definitely not supposed to do what he’s about to do.

Max rubs back and forth over the side of the chassis, where it curves gracefully. You could find curves like this on a person, he thinks, biting his lip. He slid down to the floor, both hands still on his car, and presses his forehead, then his cheeks against it. His heated skin warms the carbon fiber, and it holds the heat there. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He feels hot, his whole body flushed with excitement, his awareness of how wrong this all is only fueling the need.

Max palms himself roughly through his shorts before opening them, shoving a hand inside his underwear to rub over the insides of his thighs, letting his fingers brush over his cock but not touching it properly. He touches his stomach and his chest under his shirt instead, and pinches his nipple, gasping at the sensation. He thinks about the race earlier: the roar of the engine, the vibrations that travel through his body, the way he felt completely connected to his car, like it’s an extension of himself. He shivers at the memory. His cock twitches in response, a wet spot forming on his underwear.

He gets on his knees and pushes down his shorts and underwear. He rucks up his shirt and tries to get as much bare skin as he could against his car. He presses a couple kisses to it, and finally wraps his hand around his cock, unable to deny himself any longer. He strokes it firmly from root to tip, running his thumb over the head to spread the wetness around, and sets a slow rhythm. It’s awkward but if he positions himself just right he could rub up against it as he fucks into his fist.

He thinks about post-race, Daniel, dripping wet in the rain, coming up to congratulate him with a hug. _Fuck, why is Daniel the first person that comes to mind?_ He remembers how Daniel’s body feels at that moment, and think about what it would be like for that body to be pressed against his. If Daniel is here right now, would he want to bend Max over the car and have him like that? Max presses closer against his car and imagines Daniel holding him in place. His cock is dripping now, and he picks up the pace, letting his imagination run wild. He thinks about Daniel fucking him hard, but not allowing him to touch himself and the only friction he’s getting is from his cock rubbing up against the carbon fiber in time with his thrusts, how frustrating it would be? 

Max comes hard, his come splashing all over the side of his car. “Fuck,” he says, collapsing on the floor. He just sits and breathes for a minute, coming down, before he’s able to think again. “Fuck,” he says again, staring at the mess he’s made. He should be feeling nervous about how wrong this scenario is, but he’s feeling more relaxed than he had been all weekend. He checks his phone, and there’s a few messages from people wondering where he is. He shrugs, presses another kiss on his car, gets dressed and looks around the work benches for wipes to clean up.


End file.
